Words Unspoken
by Jabberwalk
Summary: A look into Bishop's thoughts before the siege of Crossroad Keep as he battles with his conflicting feelings for the Knight Captain. Is now a one-shot.


**Disclaimer: NWN2 is the property of Obsidian, all unoriginal characters are the property of their respective creators. Ysylte belongs to me.**

**Well, this is my first fan-fic, everyone, so feel free to make any suggestions on what can be improved. This is now a one-shot, mainly because of time constraints.  
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**(beehoon pointed out that my KC's name is hard to pronounce. Basically, you just have to treat the Y's like I's. So, Ysylte is pronounced: Iss-ilt.)**

**Prologue - Parting**

Silly little thing. That's what she was, silly, foolish, stupid little thing. He watched her standing there in the moonlight, on the walls. She had left the refuge of her chambers to stand here on the walls in the precious hours she had before dawn, before what may be her dying day. And she just stood there, stood there and waited for that cursed sun to rise and herald death.

He hated her for it, hated her for the chivalry and flat out pigheadedness that kept her here defending this moldering pile of rubble when she could be gone, gone with him, gone away from this place, these people, these so called responsibilities that she wouldn't let go of. They were all fools, the paladin, the Gith, Jerro, her, all of them were such fools to think there was any hope for this pathetic land. He couldn't care less about the rest of them, but her, Ysylte, her he wanted to bring with him when he ran, as he knew he would, as he had always planned.

Gods. And he was the greatest fool among them. How had he let her crawl into his skull and make him feel like this? Like he had to . . . have her. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything, and not just because of the lust that flooded his senses when she touched him or when that animalistic smile of hers spread over her face in the midst of battle. It was the feeling he had when he joined her in those battles that made him want to keep her with him, make sure she was his and no one else's, that feeling of . . . caring about something, for what felt like the first time. For what might very well be the first time.

But that was why he had to do this. That was why he wouldn't let himself climb those walls and speak to her, goad her, kiss her, have her right there on the walls in that pale moonlight that made her look like a ghost, a dead angel waiting for some sort of salvation. He cared about something other than himself, and that was the one thing he had promised himself he would never let happen. Chains, binding, something, someone always binding him to life, to pain, to the feelings he had never allowed himself to feel. All he had ever wanted was to be left alone, to wander the wildernesses with as much freedom as Karnwyr did, to cast off civilization and all the trappings it entailed. How he hated it, hated them, hated everything!

Everything but her.

She was still unaware of him, but he wasn't surprised. She had sharp eyes, but she'd never been able to tell he was there if he didn't want to be seen. All the better tonight, she didn't need to see this. He approached the open gates that lead out onto the fields where the first crops were fully grown, nearly ready for harvest. He reached the gates and began to look for the closing mechanism. There it was, all too easy to find in the moonlight. He stepped forward and began to examine it, looking for the piece the fool gnome had told him the gate's ability to open and close depended on. Grobnar, so trusting, so willing to believe the best of everyone, well, maybe this would be a lesson to him. Gods knew the little madman needed it.

Perhaps it was his intent search that caused him not to hear her approaching him, or maybe she had actually learned a thing or two from him about keeping quiet. Or perhaps he'd known all along and simply hadn't wanted to stop her. Did it matter? No, at this point, nothing mattered.

"Bishop?"

Her voice was as emotionless as it always was, but it was softer than usual, a different tone than he would have expected. He turned to face her, his amber eyes locking with her ice-blue ones, his brow furrowing as he drank in the sight of her.

Her short pale gold hair was almost glowing in the silver light cast by the moon. She was not dressed in her usual Warlock's garb, but had donned a simple white sleeping gown and cloak, protection against the brisk night air. She'd obviously been trying to get some sleep and had failed in that attempt. She looked so . . . vulnerable. Unreal, fragile, like she would shatter if he touched her.

Gods, he wanted to touch her.

Break her.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, frowning at him, then the gates, them him again.

"I could ask you the same question, Knight-Captain. Can't sleep?"

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and looked up at the sky, still frowning.

"No," she answered cautiously, looking back at him, "Obviously I'm not alone."

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. She was probably right; he doubted he'd be getting any sleep, mores the pity. Though admittedly, it wouldn't be for the reasons he'd have preferred.

_Stop it, _he told himself, _you aren't doing yourself any favors, thinking like that now._

"You can never be too careful," he said, glancing at the gates, "Don't worry, your little rubbish heap will hold well enough."

No, it wouldn't hold at all. That was why he was here, to make sure he'd never have to think about her, or Duncan, or _obligations _ever again. It was time he stopped pandering to her. He couldn't stand it any longer, couldn't let her take anymore away from him than she had already. He'd never planned on staying with her in the first place, he'd only decided to stay because he thought that maybe, somewhere along the line, there'd be an opportunity to strike at Duncan. Well, he'd found one, and hurting Neverwinter in the process was just a bonus. And hurting her, well, he'd be killing two birds with one stone.

"You were . . . checking defenses?" Her tone was somewhere between suspicious and bemused.

"What, you think I want to die tomorrow?" He snapped. "In case you hadn't noticed, _Captain_, you're not the only one whose neck you're risking in the morning."

"Believe me," she scoffed, "I knew that."

Her expression was one that he couldn't quite pin down. She'd never been an easy one to read, she was too reserved in her emotions. A lot like that damn paladin, except for one difference: she could hide her feelings, the paladin couldn't. He tried to keep himself all locked up in his own head with his useless code of honor, never overstepping the boundaries of his faith, and never being honest with himself. Bishop could see exactly what the man was the first time he'd seen him. He'd come into contact with his share of paladins when he'd been a soldier for Luskan, and Casavir was just like the rest of them, righteous, overbearing, and driven to the brink of insanity. It was only a matter of time until he snapped, and when he did Bishop just hoped he was there to see his favorite paladin fall.

He focused on her face, trying to figure out what her expression meant. She wouldn't meet his eyes, which was unusual. That perhaps was the first thing he'd noticed about her -well, second, actually, but _that_ was the first thing he noticed about any woman- when he turned his glare on her, she didn't avert her eyes and quickly move on, like most others did. She just looked back at him, completely expressionless, but with something burning in her eyes that didn't match her cold exterior. But now she wouldn't look at him, and as he looked at her he realized what that expression was.

It was resignation. Resignation and . . . reluctance?

_Maybe._

"You know," he said slowly, probingly, "there's still time. Just you and me, Ysylte."

She jerked her head up, her previous expression replaced by one of confused shock. He wasn't sure why. He continued, "You don't have to die with them. This was a fool's quest to begin with. So, unless you have even less sense than I thought, you should leave tonight. Let Neverwinter fend for itself, for once."

He knew it was a fool's hope. He'd already told her exactly what he was telling her now, and it hadn't made a bit of difference to her. But maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that this time he could convince her. If they left tonight, he could forget Garius and he'd finally have her to himself. No paladin, no debts, nothing. Just him and her.

For a moment, he thought that she might say yes.

But it was a fool's hope.

She made her excuses as she had last time, her refusals to walk away from a fight, all as hollow and unconvincing as they always were. He _knew_ she wanted to, just as much as she had that first time he suggested they run off together, nearly four months ago now. Maybe, after all, she and the paladin were more alike than he'd realized. Neither of them would stop lying to themselves.

He watched her retreating back, something in the pit of his stomach slowly building, something he couldn't quite get control of.

_Time to wake up, 'Captain'._

He was on her in three strides, grabbing her roughly by the wrist and yanking her around to face him. He barely had time to register the glare on her face before his mouth crashed into hers and he was kissing her so hard it hurt. He pulled her back into the shadows near the gate, pressing her against the wall, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck trying to pull her closer, deepening the kiss. She responded, groaning, grasping at the short hair on the back of his head, digging her fingers into his scalp. He pressed her harder against the wall, grunting half in pain, half in pleasure. He could tell by the stinging and the moist feeling on the back of his head that she'd cut him.

He vaguely heard a voice in the back of his mind telling him that this was a very _bad _idea, but it was a very small voice, and his body didn't seem to agree. In fact, his body seemed to think this was the best idea he'd had in a _very_ long time. He slid his hand down her neck and pulled the loosely tied nightgown to the side exposing her pale shoulder. He buried his face in her neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh there, not sinking his teeth in hard enough to break the skin but enough to make sure he heard her sharp intake of breath at the pain. Somehow she didn't seem fragile anymore; she seemed rough, meeting his brutality with her own, digging her fingers deeper into the back of his head, drawing more blood. She didn't seem to notice the damage she was doing, either that or she didn't care. Somehow, he thought it was the latter.

A particularly vicious dig at his scalp made him bite down on her neck harder than he meant to, and he could tell by the coppery taste on his lips that this time he'd broken the skin. She froze, her hand still in his hair. He lifted his head to look at her, panting. Perhaps it was the sight of her own blood on his mouth, or perhaps it was the feel of his on her fingers, but something had doused the fire in her, and before he could do anything she had dropped her hand from his head and shoved him away with surprising force.

She was breathing as heavily as he was, and her eyes were squeezed shut, as if she were desperately trying to shut something out of her mind. When she opened them, her look was dead once more, that infuriating expressionless calm. She pushed away from the wall, and walked past him, not even glancing in his direction. He heard her stop.

"No."

And she walked away.

Liar. It was what she'd always been, just like everyone else. Just like the paladin, just like Duncan, just like him. Ah, well. Did it really matter? No, it didn't. She'd die with the rest of them, and he'd be glad, because he'd finally be free. So why did he feel so . . . _angry? _He didn't know, but he didn't care anymore, not about this, or her, or anything.

He stayed motionless until he knew she was gone, and then returned his attention to the gates. After all, this was why he'd come out here in the first place, wasn't it?

_It doesn't matter. _

So this was it. The end. He'd hold up his end of the deal, he just hoped Garius would hold up his. He'd live through this, and then it was back to the wilderness, where he could forget and be forgotten. Back to paradise.

It was time to sever ties.


End file.
